Timore
by No-Life-Queen
Summary: Short story about an original character during the battle in London. Please read and review.


A/n: This was a really quickly written one. It's about an OC in the midst of the battle in voulmes 5-whenever it ends. O-o Anyway, stadard disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, yadda, yadda, yadda whatever. I do own Isabel.

Timore

_Why? Why now? Of all the times possible, why did they pick now? The one day she had set foot into London, and this happened. _

An explosion brought the girl out of her thoughts; she had to move now if she wanted to survive. Long strands of black hair were pushed out of hazel-colored eyes as she glanced around the building she was in. One could say it was empty except for her, but that wouldn't be accurate, would it? Well, of course not; the place was littered with corpses and the like. The girl- young woman, rather- felt tears streaing down her face; she did have to get out, but where would she go?

The sounds of battle still raged outside, though it wasn't quite as loud now that there weren't many human screams to add to the fighting. The city was burning; she could smell the charred wood and the ashes in the air were constantly stinging her eyes and throat. She coughed as she looked up, away from the ground. Her gaze widened slightly as she took notice of a small movement nearby. She stood quickly, moving her hand away from her mouth. "Is someone there?" she called out, sending her into another coughing fit.

She received no reply, but decided against calling again. Instead, the young woman moved through the building, searching faces as she went for any sign of life. A groan not too far in front of her caught her attention, and she turned her eyes to the source. Her eyes came to rest on a moving person; someone was still alive! She hurried toward the movement, but stopped a few feet from it.

The person didn't look right; their skin was dry and still the gray color of death the others were. She moved back a few steps as it turned toward her and began walking. The girl shook her head a few times and blinked; surely she was hallucinating or something? When she opened her eyes again to see more supposed corpses moving she let out a scream and turned toward the door, only to find her movements held by cold hands at her ankles.

She turned her head to find her gaze met with hollow eyes, another scream passing her lips to echo through the building. She fought to free her legs from the cold grip the walking dead had on them, but her efforts proved completely useless against the ghouls' vice-like grip. She managed to catch herself as she lost her footing and fell forward; the last thing she could afford now was hitting her head and being knocked unconcious. She still struggled against the zombies, this time managing to break free after kicking at the things.

She pulled herself up to stand, throwing open the door to the building and running out of it, not caring what might get in her way outside; she just wanted to be away from the zombies inside of the building. Her run led her into an alleyway, where she found herself facing more ghouls as she tried to move over the corpses lying in the streets. Her eyes darted around a few times before she retrieved a bloodied spear from the ground and held it in front of her for defense. Once more, how such a thing got there did not concern her; it was life or death now. "S-stay back," she ordered, forcing her hands to stop shaking as she tightened her grip on the weapon.

The ghouls, however, did not heed her command, or even seem to notice it. They continued advancing as the girl backed away, murmuring some mantra to her self as she found her back pressed against a wall. "Be strong, Isabel," was repeated as the girl began moving forward again, jabbing the spear into the nearest ghoul and tearing through its flesh clumsily. This action caused an inbalance in her footing, making her stop to correct herself before she continued to slash her way through the zombies, getting more used to the feeling of the weapon as she moved along.

After making her way through the thin wave of zombies she stepped out into the streets of what could have once been called London. She fell to her knees at the sight before her, letting the spear clatter away as her eyes widened. She shook her head a few times; the fact that such a beautiful place had been destroyed so quickly was shocking.It took her a moment to regain her composure and look around; she still had a chance to get away, didn't she? 

She pulled herself up again and began running, focused on the borders of the city. She dodged corpses when they came into her way, but soon found herself stopping again with the sight of shadows overtaking everything.She shivered; it was colder now; the shadows seemed to be taking away the heat of the area. She soon fell back to her knees, eyes now half closed. She could feel cold hands tugging at her legs, but ignored them, closing her eyes fully and leaning against the wall.

She smirked to herself. "I'm tired..." she stated, to no one in particular. She fell forward to the ground, resting her head on her folded arms to accept the sweet cold of death.

Finis


End file.
